


Ghandon's Reports

by TheTentacleCommander



Series: The Devil's Saga [5]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infected Characters, Laboratories, M/M, Mind Break, Mind Games, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Monsters, Old work, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Other, Pheromones, Raccoon City, Side Story, Tentacle Monsters, Teratophilia, Umbrella Corporation, Unethical Experimentation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTentacleCommander/pseuds/TheTentacleCommander
Summary: All those lab files that 'someone' tried to delete off of Umbrella's servers. Is written as a companion fic/in tandem with the story arc 'On a Devil's Wings'.





	1. Head Researcher Simon Timothy Ghandon's Personal Files -1-

_B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > nov121998umb.avi_  
  
A grainy, soundless video clip is playing; a string of numbers roll across the screen next to what looked to be a small miniaturized Umbrella logo. The image seemed shaky as if a hand cam was being used. The image of a hazmat-suited up arm could be seen in the frame as the cameraman adjusted. The camera panned upwards before panning around the area; the devastated smoking area that looked to be little more than rubble and sand.  
  
The cam picked up other figures rolling past in a Humvee, outfitted with people in fatigues, loaded with weapons and the familiar red and white logo on their arms. As they rolled by, the cameraman lifted up a small thin electronic of some sort. It appeared to be a tracker, pulsing towards a fixed yet unmoving point on the screen. The way the camera shifted around it was as if the handler was nervous and moving quickly.  
  
The Humvee from before had suddenly skidded to a stop near the cameraman's path. The camera shifted back to the front of the viewer only to pan the view out. From farther away, one could see a large mass. The camera jerked around again as the cameraman jumped into the van with the others, the military vehicle' surroundings replacing the monotony of the sandy near bleach white of the outside. Suddenly, the sound crackled on as the blare of the Humvee engine roared to life.  
  
The camera adjusted shakily looking towards the once barely identifiable thing from afar. As the still quiet group approached it, the mass from closer didn't look any better. It looked like a bloated pile of animal guts, with what looked to be distended appendages and sharp spines sticking out of it. The mass was like an unmoving tumor, nearly as big if not bigger than the Humvee, the thing laying in a low pit and drying out in the warm sun.   
  
The soldiers had begun to put on gas masks; the camera was placed down; assumingly the cameraman was placing one onto themselves as the sound of close by shifting was heard. “Seems it went into a final defensive measure,” was cooly uttered by the cameraman, panning along the huge mass.  
  
“Get back!” was sharply shouted from someone through a muffled mask before the camera wobbled suddenly. It jostled up then back down steadying itself to refocus on the bloated pile of flesh as the meat pile began to softly shimmer in movement. It rippled while the dry pile began to appear as if it was suddenly re-hydrating itself, the fleshy mass gaining a wet and slimy sheen. Meanwhile, beneath the surface of the thing's skin, worm-like things were barely seen moving inside it.  
  
One soldier had shifted their rifle upwards at the bloated mass, hesitantly watching it slightly shift around like a mishmash of near unidentifiable parts and gore. Suddenly it began to shift violently then constrict, folding in on itself like a grotesque piece of paper. The noises being made were a mix between an animal being wetly torn apart and the sharp shifting of bone.   
  
The cameraman suddenly jerked backward as suddenly very familiar purple-black protrusions peeked through then ripped out of the large but still shrinking mass. The mass became smaller and smaller; till it landed on a size and shape nearing more humanoid. Still, it was too large than a normal human; the sounds of flesh and bone shifting around was slowing down, with the assorted party looking on. The cameraman's voice came out with a hint of both awe and unease, “The tracker was accurate as the B.O.W. while having a very low survival probability, indeed survived the nuclear strike. How it did, we will have to determine after its recapture.”  
  
The camera was shifted as the cameraman raised that tracker again, the gadget still beeping implying that this pile of flesh in front of them was a lost B.O.W. The now much more humanoid looking B.O.W. still kept morphing and shrinking into itself till it had the defining face, tearing, scaring and tentacles it was known for down to the look it had before launch into Raccoon City.  
  
Everything had reverted back to its original form sans the medical staples that was found all over its body and in the face, leaving it - no  _him_  going by the unclothed state the B.O.W. was left in - like the B.O.W. had used a biological save state to recover from the uncontrollable mutative state he was in previous.   
  
The newly reshaped Tyrant began to suddenly vomit everywhere causing the Umbrella recovery team to pull even further back. The B.O.W. was vomiting out profusely what appeared to be medical waste; the body rejecting the additional waste that had probably aided in the near uncontrolled state the group found him in.  
  
“Unit NET-002 has been found. Ready to prepare it for transport.” One of the soldier raised an odd weapon, unseen till now in the view of the camera. The Tyrant had stopped vomiting around this point, visibly shaking while leftover drooled from his maw. Then suddenly as if spent from that exertion, the creature slumped to the ground before passing out. The team had still kept their distance from the Tyrant, watching for any more movements.   
  
But as time passed, it became clear that the B.O.W. was not getting back up. Eventually, the cameraman went to test the monster for vitals concluding, “Aside from the shifting of forms, the found subject did not rise from the ground a second time after a good hour. It seems to have entered a self-imposed comatose state. When it would wake from such a state we do not know but we need to rush it over to containment quickly.” With that, the soldier with the strange looking gunshot what appeared to be darts at the prone creature. While this was happening, the loud whooshing sound of wind near overwhelmed the sound of the cam as a black, windowless and unmarked transport helicopter landed a few feet away from the still unconscious Tyrant. It seemed larger than what would be expected of such aircraft.  
  
The helicopter slowly landed before its roaring engines were suddenly shut off. It then lowered itself to the ground with what looked to be built in hydraulics in its landing gear. The back of the helicopter’s door was let open by one of the members with a larger metal lift slowly protruding out. Sitting on the lift was a large cylinder capsule, the latches already looking to be unlocked.  
  
“No odd effects observed yet from chemical 3621. Will keep watch as unit stays in containment,” the cameraman utters as the 4 others try to lift up the prone Tyrant. The Tyrant must have weighed a taxing amount as the 4 struggled to even lift the monster an inch only to place moving straps up under him.  The camera began to shake and jostle in the cameraman's hands as if he was waving his hands around-  
  
The video feed suddenly cuts off; the rest of the file seems corrupted.  
  
  
…...............................................+  
  
_B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > ParasiticIntroductiontest.mov_   
  
*the sound of crackling from file artifacts can be heard before the file plays*  
  
A hand is holding up a small test tube. Inside the tube, a thin translucent purple liquid fills the glass container to near the top where the stopper sits. Floating in said liquid is something small, near the size of a fingernail. The hand tilts forward showing the piercing green eyes intently staring at it.   
  
“He calls you 'flotsam in a jar'. That impossible, rich fool. You are more than that. Much, much more. Your inventor was weak, not understanding how to fix you. But I your new master, no, your REAL Master....I am birthing you am I not? I am your Father. I understand you. Only I.”  
  
The holder of the vial picked up a nearby syringe; he then pushed the sharp tip inside the vial letting the contents transfer into the thin hypodermic needle. The gaunt man then looked over to his shoulder before walking away from the camera. A few feet away was a tall impossibly quiet T-103 model Tyrant. It sat blankly, it strapped securely into a large inhuman sized gurney. Despite the restraints affixed to it, it did not give off the impression that it would lash out if at all.   
  
*the film slightly warps; the tall gaunt man appears to have skipped forward because of the lost footage*  
  
“You will become My soldiers; do you know that?” The man says this in a low coo; not to the Tyrant strapped quietly on the gurney, but to the sample within that small syringe. “Now, to see what you can do. Timer is set.” With that last sentence, he injects the fluid including that small, near invisible fleck swimming in it into a large vein along the prone T-103's neck.  
  
“And God saw everything He created, and it was very, very good,” the man murmured as he smiled as the T-103 stared. It softly blinked, before the large hands once slack had begun to grip along the lip of the gurney, unable to move them much due to the restraints. It looked as if it was paler than normal, with beads of sweat starting to form along its gray skin.  
  
The man was simply sitting a distance away in rapt attention as if he was waiting for a show to begin. And it had as the Tyrant had sharply broken its silence, its heavy breathing sliding into near hyperventilation. Heavily booted feet were starting to move around in protest. The observer calmly looked at his wrist watch.  
  
“2 minutes.”  
  
Along the large inhuman sized arms, swirls of purple started to crawl along under the skin, looking like veins tracing along the major arterial points of the prone T-103 unit.   
  
“5 minutes...And lo I made you in not My Image, but of My Will." The softly uttered words were barely heard as the T-103 started to make gurgling sounds from its throat. The lines of purple ran up along the prominent Adam’s apple; they soon were trailed by tracks of drool from the bound creature's mouth.  
  
“10 minutes.” The Tyrant was shaking its head back and forth before ramming it into the metal, denting the gurney in its struggles. It continued to do this for minutes on end shaking and convulsing.  
  
And then, right after the man uttered, “15 minutes,” it stopped stock still. The small curl of a smile formed along that man's rapt face before the bound Tyrant let out a shriek of pure agony that was both painfully inhuman yet was out of clear horror.  
  
“16 minute mark has been reached,” the man remarked in that detached tone he seemed to always speak in; the T-103 was now trying hard to rip out of its chair, its skin was starting to bulge out in places along with its vacant eyes open wide and near pushing out of its sockets, the blood vessels in the eye all colored in purple.   
  
“17 minutes.”  
  
Tears of purple began to run down its face with the Tyrant starting to foam at the mouth. Suddenly, the sounds of things ripping open was heard then seen: muscles, skin, even the popping, and snapping of bones caused red and purple to coat the floor, the subject ramming its head against the gurney.   
  
“18 minutes.” The long pained screaming of the T-103 sharply ended as thick, purple-black tentacles burst through its maw, the faintest of sounds the creature could even weakly produce now coated in wet.   
  
“19 minutes.” Tendrils burst through the chest, the face cracked open from the sheer multitude of them. Eyes, ears, the nose; any hole or opening was dripping out purple.   
  
“20 minutes.” The eyes of the T-103 dimmed in death, the once naturally silent creature now lying slack and opened up from the inside. "Test subject NEalpha1; parasite rejected. What a shame as I had hoped for a breakthrough. Will have to request more clones of that Russian...'more money to waste' to Spencer's lamentation. Oh well. Note to re-record for 'official' record later. Ghandon, out.”  
  
*the file abruptly ends*  
  
…...............................................+  
  
_B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > Reports G Level >PRS38.doc_  
  
  
_NEMESIS Project Report Summary 38_  
  
_September 12th, 1999_  
  
  
_Sub-project: Project 3621 - The creation of Invidia_  
  
_Unit NET-002's chemical makeup aside from the few negligible physical changes to the main body (namely a discoloration here or there) had retained the exact same features it sported pre Raccoon City insertion. It is assumed that the unit had ingested foreign chemicals during its test launch probably from the lost waste plant; the absorption of said chemicals may have aided in its survival and recovery from the destruction of the Raccoon City site. This is the only reason we can even surmise that it survived the blast at all._  
  
_It was a surprise as it was that the tracker embedded within the chip containing its directives still functioned. The chip was attached to it on the parasitic body, not the host body. But the fact that said parasite was not in its original position (causing slight disruption to said chip/tracker) implies that the parasite itself took to evasive procedures and hid deep within the host body as an act of self-preservation. This also meant that it needed to be recovered before the U.S. Government discovered it when they inevitably went to check the now non-existent town for residual evidence._  
  
_When it was found out that the found unit still could be functioning, termination was first suggested to recoup the huge monetary losses both from this project itself and from the millions of dollars of research gone missing after the disappearance of researcher Ghandon but a durable test subject was needed to test the newest sedative. If the subject expired in the process of testing it would not be any more of a financial hit on the company then it already was._  
  
_Despite it still weeks after the fact still being comatose we found it of use with the new 3621 project. It is an experimental sedative based off of the narcoleptic properties of dust. Dust in itself isn't much of a threat to humans as it aside from agitating nasal passages nothing of import. But we had observed that B.O.W.s having been in the middle of transport would show symptoms of drowsiness in less hygienic areas. We are not sure if it was due to B.O.W.s typically being lab bred and hence not accustomed to it, but after narrowing down the reasons found that dust was the culprit. So we isolated the properties in dust that did this to a more potent dosage. In doing this though, the normally harmless properties to humans increased to cause a lethal reaction when given a direct injection._  
  
_The chemical did react to the comatose B.O.W. but aside from affecting the receptors that denote alertness, did not seem to last long. After usage on it, we moved on to other Tyrant units such as T-002s finding the effect lasted a lot longer and did not harm them either. This implies that other Tyrant types react stronger to the new chemical than NE-Ts. Whenever the NE-T unit wakes, the chemical will be used again to get more accurate results and to make 3621 as potent as possible._  
  
_Head Researcher Lorelie Y. Beaulieu_  
_Umbrella Europe sixth lab, Paris_


	2. Head Researcher Simon Timothy Ghandon's Personal Files -2-

_Those who can, rule. Those who can't, obey.  
  
The Tyrant's way prevails over all.  
  
~S. T. Ghandon_  
  
(written on the side of a testing slip, dated April 1996)  
  
  
…...............................................+   
  
 _B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > 2368557.mp3_  
  
The crackle of paper brushing against a speaker is heard loudly before whatever was brushing the mic was pulled away. The sound of breathing was clearly heard before a loud gulp. Whoever had the mic was clearly too close to it or was wearing some sort of personal microphone or wire.   
  
“I...I see their newest projects; they are treated like pit bulls prepped for a lifetime of dog fighting,” a concerned, heavily Parisian voice muttered in a dejected tone as if she was mostly talking to herself. “I-I know that they aren't human and are just weapons but this...the faces they make as they scream I...God forgive us all.”  
  
The voice went silent but the breathing went heavier as the sound of banging was heard. The pounding sound was loud, but the inhuman yelling was near earsplitting. The sound of something possibly clothing sweeping by the mic was heard again before the speaker began to yell agitatedly:  
  
“Ghandon, make him stop! MAKE HIM STOP OR HE'LL KILL HIM!”   
  
More ruffling, then the sounds of heavy steam filling an area was heard covering up the other sounds.  
  
The .mp3 abruptly ends.  
  
  
…...............................................+   
  
 _B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > NE-T Holding Pen Protocol (Level 10).doc   
  
This is a quick rundown of the testing pen's rules. As you all may know, this is a new class of Tyrant; these models have a completely different pattern of behavior in comparison to the other produced Tyrant units. Being a level 10 docket, all who have any research to perform involving this pen must read and report to upper staff that you have in fact reviewed this doc. Those that do not comply may find themselves removed from this and future projects.  
  
*This paperwork was highlighted in red, implying specific protocols were to be closely followed for this specific area for researchers.*  
  
Rules in engaging an NE-T class Tyrant:  
  
1\. Do not corner them; they will react like an animal is wont.  
  
2\. Do not flee from them; they have an inherent predatory instinct* that once engaged will not cease until their target is neutralized.  
  
3\. Loud noises and bright lights agitate them greatly due to their heightened senses. Attempt to not unduly do things that cause either event unless a restrained testing procedure is being instigated.   
  
4\. Always sedate before and after movement from home pen.  
  
5\. Do not demonstrate visible fear. It like fleeing triggers their predatory instinct*.  
  
6\. If you find yourself cornered, lower your head in a submissive position; at all costs do not give direct eye contact. Said action is a challenge to their hierarchy.   
  
*Their predatory instinct is a built-in bloodlust that is there to make them focus on their targets. Demonstrating resolve or indifference one can assume will agitate them less, though in captivity this was rarely observed as most violated rules 2 and 5 during testing.  
  
7\. NE-T males in heat should be separated. Human males do not go into obvious heat phases but posturing for dominance (giving out commands towards the Tyrant or giving a domineering stance) will appear as jockeying for rank implying said heat. Keep Tyrants sedated before entry to avoid this.  
  
8\. Females on their menses should not go into their pen until said conditions pass. This is exclusively for the researcher’s safety. Despite having only made male Tyrant units, the fact that they can pick up instinctively such scents is a curious development. Future testing to expand on this and possible compatibility in the future will be undertaken. But for now, until told otherwise, all female researchers shall adhere to this rule and will be moved to a new area till it passes. Any who do not, do so at their own risk.   
  
9\. Do not confuse their intelligence for understanding or empathy. They are bright creatures but are not able to fully grasp human nuance. That mistake has left researchers at their own peril through unwise attachments.  
  
10\. They are aware they are stronger than a human; always assume they are always a potential threat and have an exit path in mind before entering the pen. Docility on an NE-T can change at any time.  
  
11\. Do not run in and try to physically separate if they start to violently interact with each other. This is a normal process of pulling rank. If the interaction gets to the point where heavy damage is sustained, is it authorized to flood the room with sedative before separating each guilty party out for punishment.    
  
Head Researcher Simon T. Ghandon  
Umbrella Europe sixth lab, Paris_   
  
  
…...............................................+   
  
 _B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > Training1.doc (hidden files; show)_  
  
(date was not noted anywhere on the document; it reads as a diary more than a test paper)  
  
“My children. My dear, unknowing children. What have you done? You clearly have not been on your best behavior. Why else are you as you are,” I recall admonishing towards my four children, my face set in disappointment. So remarkable they all were even when ill-behaved!   
  
Four large creatures sat; each wore little more than a long, white sheet that fell to their muscular knees. Aside from hiding their genitals, the modesty skirt did little else in the way of protection or comfort. The four NE-T sat forcibly on their knees, a spreader bar keeping their ankles spread so that one had no choice but to sit in such a state or they'd fall ungracefully to their side. Their arms were cuffed behind their backs, preventing them from using them in keeping themselves upright. They were already warned to not use their natural weapons. If they did, their punishment would be worse. They were always so prone to misbehavior.   
  
Three pairs of eyes stared up at me through the testing glass that reflected back my eyes – the eye of their God ever watching. Their lip-less faces held the look of confusion towards my words but did not question their Father's judgment. But one pair – those eyes did not glance in question; no, he stared deadpan through the glass not even trying to hide his disdain. Oh, my second born, always ever the troublesome one. But that was okay. This lesson would fell two birds with one stone.  
  
\----------  
  
I remembered observing my creations; my holy work. My Four Horsemen to be. 'Born' already strong, already intelligent, but not quite  _there_  yet. I had let them acclimate to their pen for a while, wishing to see them in their natural state. One wandered to the section where piles of books sat. That one mulled over the pages enjoying the selection of worn paperbacks and hardcovers that the creature gently parted open with his inhumanly large fingers. The BOW then began to almost quickly leap from children's picture books to grade school literature – then oddly lept from that to textbooks voraciously picking up anything that caught the NE-T's eye. I had Gamine ask that one about a book containing things about the science behind weather – the Tyrant pointed at the recessed lights in the ceilings then pointed to the sun in one book. It was surprising how quick to learn that one was. I decided to name that one Periphas for that one had the mind of a bird, wanting already to fly to other worlds through words. I, of course, limited the books available as if my son was that intelligent to grasp written work that quickly, the wrong text could cause problems down the road.  
  
Then there was my last born. I knew straight away what that one's name would be: Hephaestus. That one was larger than the rest, and seemed less interested in intellectual pursuits; but had a strange enjoyment of creating things out of the sleeping cots; things that appeared to be spears or weapons. That one did not seem to have a need to use said weapons, just a want to create them. Still, this lead to the frames being removed and their beds to become little more than mattresses on the floor.  
  
But the last two; they for a time took me the longest to name. They were inseparable; twin like even in behaviors. It was like observing middle children. Larger than Periphas but smaller than Hephaestus, the two would go off in it seemed play fights, small skirmishes more akin to something done as a game than any true threat. They would share food with each other, and near wordlessly communicate with one another. It was like they were in their own little world.  
  
As much as that fascinated me, I could not have that bond become stronger than My Will.  
  
…...  
  
I eyed my 4 children, letting them know of my disapproval. But I am a merciful God, my hand is not always harsh. My hand though had a lesson to mete out. They sat in a small room; it was smaller than the pens as it limited the places they could run and made sedation through steam easier to take due to the smaller room size.  
  
They would normally eat in the pens, but shamefully they lost those privileges a week ago. A small slot in the wall lifted upwards; a conveyor belt came to life, the previously unmoving thing now making a motorized and continuous path along the floor near my obediently waiting children. Through the slot in the wall, four plates of synthesized food passed through to drift and stop at each of the four males' knees. It was not the raw meat they were used to, but my mercy was rather limited.  
  
I could even hear the low rumble of hunger from one of them through the testing glass. I recall that they were not allowed to eat from my hand for that whole week; they bit that hand through disobedience and poor behavior and so did not deserve my bounty. The food would stave their hunger; maybe within a day or two I would actually give them the raw meat their systems craved.    
  
But they must earn it.  
  
I remember cradling my testing microphone, in awe at how compliant they were. They were simply magnificent in their state. “My children,” I cooed, “Have your bellies dealt with your sin long enough? You are My children, My possessions, My Four Horsemen! There is no room for baseless pride, for your all is owed to Me. Now eat as My Command is law.”  
  
I could not help but watch in hidden excitement; my last born leaned over first, sniffing the bowl before eagerly gulping down the slurry at his feet. Like a good boy Hephaestus did not use his tentacles, but bowed over, lapping at the bowl like a cat. Periphas dove into his bowl with no shame, tearing into it like a street dog. My 3rd born followed suit, leaning so far that his modesty skirt started to slide downward leaving him exposed, his muscular legs for all to see.  
  
I created all that I see. And I was greatly pleased.  
  
Except for one.  
  
That same, defiant stare. That same, unhidden hatred poured from my 2nd born and I was reminded how  I enjoyed his constant need to challenge. It meant that he had a strong will. But wills are always meant to be broken and remade. If one cannot take, they are taken from. If one has no power, then they will forever be undone.  
  
“My children, are you not enjoying my bounty? Why is one not eating? Do none of you wish for more in your future?  **If so, I can make that happen**.” I smiled as the gravity of my statement set in. I softly depressed a button on my console; the cuffs and restraints on my children suddenly unclasped freeing them from their bonds. Except for my 2nd born. He does not earn such niceties from being disobedient and ungrateful!    
  
But that was okay, these things always sort themselves out. A low snarl followed as Hephaestus lowered his head to the still bound one's side to continue lowly snarling into that one's ear hole. Almost immediately, my 3rd born snaps at my youngest, hovering almost protectively over the 2nd born. Periphas was circling the two clearly wanting to get at the prone troublemaker.  
  
Is the middle child trying to be his unruly brother's keeper? Interesting. The one still bound narrows his eyes at the two aggressive ones, snarling and letting drool trail from his maw in an aggressive stance. The one guarding him looked for a half second towards the smallest one of their number, only to get full on punched in the jaw by Hephaestus. This causes that one to stagger back buying Periphas enough time to shove the bound one downward face first humiliatingly into the food.  
  
But my 2nd born! Such a temper that one! He lashed out with his tentacle, flinging the food against the wall in his rage. He then slams his head into the gut of Periphas in retaliation. I eye them; it would be nice to see them cooperative. In fact, as a unit, they would be unstoppable.   
  
But. They are not mindless T-002s. These experimental units clearly are intelligent. They are well aware who they are to a lesser human. To let them keep on thinking that they are better than all would be a travesty waiting to happen. No, they can't be too cohesive a unit. They must learn early to be individual, to have an assigned place with I as their head. The more fractured yet managed they are, the more controllable they become. And what better control is there than to foster an internal hierarchy?   
  
I ponder my more pressing issue as my 3nd born was shoved aside, a hard pinch by one of his sibling's hands to his back tentacle caused his parasitic brain to shut down, knocking him out. This left my 2nd born prone and bound. A flurry of tentacles lashed out but they did not succeed in helping him as the large hand of Hephaestus pushed past to grasp him by the ankle. The loud crack of that fist to the head reverberated in that room. My oldest born unleashed his foot into their middle brother's gut and side; both males took their time brutalizing their unruly brother. In time that bothersome and tactless defiance will be beaten out of him.   
  
I do these lessons out of love. And he needs my love most.  
  
Hmm, what to name them...what to name them....  
  
I had thought of naming them after a famous pair of twins. There are so many in Greek lore?...no, these two are stronger than the others. I say that because of one willing to suffer for his protests, and the other for his defenses. I had seen these two act this way before, one keeping one raging. They are like gods ever together seeking two sides of justice.   
  
My third born is stronger than he looks; I've seen him even push away his younger brother in a more even fight. He would be one trying to give laws even if no one listens; he could be a just ruler of his brothers but he is too soft – too content to just being his brother's keeper. But my second born; he was and is implacable and unpleasable. No matter how kind I treat him he rails against me!  
  
He was now at this point bleeding all over the floor, his right eye swollen, but still staring at me with heated rage. Still damnably insolent! I then chuckled; this child doesn’t deserve the name of a god. He is too insolent for such a name. He looks as he acts now, a lowly debased creature – why not give him the name of one that was debased? And as that name fittingly fell into place, I outright smiled as his brother's name came easily to mind with it. Yes, fitting.   
  
  
…...............................................+   
  
 _B.O.W. specimens T-103 – Nemesis T-Type 2003 > NEMESIS Project > 23.mov (hidden files; show)_  
  
A grainy clip plays with artifacts filling it, the clip showing heavy file corruption throughout. It was rather short, consisting of 23 seconds of footage from a camera in a fixed position. It showed what appeared to be a white tiled shower. Bloody handprints were along the south wall, the blood itself trailing down to the floor. As the blood trailed to the floor, the large body of a NE-T was crumpled to the floor, their modesty sheet sticking to their shaking frame. Blood pooled under them, the creature still breathing but not getting up from their prone position. They merely hugged themselves till the clip abruptly cuts out.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on dA in 2015


End file.
